by Natalie Wish
“...and you are?”
“Ah. Sorry, I’m not the best at court etiquette. I’m Lorena Alkasian.” she made a perfunctory curtsy, like she just hurried to have the gesture out of the way.
“Mexia Walmengast,” Mexi responded, making his own curtsy a bit awkward on purpose.
They shared a commiserating smile.
From that point they got on like a house on fire.
∞∞∞
Saainren nearly forgot how it was to be in Court. His own city fell a decade ago and since then he dealt with working for some nobles, but those were private matters, and he hadn’t entered an official Court of a Queen or an Emperor in a long time. But some skills were like swimming and you couldn’t really forget them. The smile slid on his face, that specific one that signaled being a bit bored and inviting others to provide company. He wore the new name like a mask, immersing himself in the role of a rich merchant from afar, who caught the eyes of a dragon and was pleased with the opportunity to hang onto the arm of his love in High Court. They decided only Xanran would be the one to go as himself, as the perks of representing the Crystal Clan, with Weix’s blessing, were too good to pass on. It gave them the bit of legitimacy they needed to even begin talking to the Imperials who would have access to the research files. And the stir they have caused worked in their favor. Saainren knew very well that gossip was a potent currency in a place like this and their presence, or tales, had the potential to be exchanged for other intangible goods. They only needed to make themselves interesting enough.
They were schmoozing and keeping an eye open for the few Imperial officials who may be of interest when Rogan pulled the sleeve of his brocade tunic. The golden scale laying against his throat jingled against the chain it was on when he turned to his companion.
“Listen,” Xanran whispered.
A few paces from them three ladies were tittering at each other.
“I heard he is handsome.” One of them fanned herself.
“Well, I heard that’s the only thing he has going for himself,” the other lady snorted.
“What are you saying?” the first lady pouted. “He has to be intelligent and powerful and... strong, definitely strong, if he managed to erase the curse of the Crimson Wasteland!”
Xanran and Saainren looked at each other with worry. How much did the Imperials know about what happened?
It took them only a few minutes to be quite sure the Imperials knew nothing. The person that was being so passionately talked about wasn’t anyone from their team. It was an Imperial by the name of Rhet Mobilon. He was heralded as the Hero of the Imperium for ending the Crimson Scourge and apparently he was going to be given a medal and a promotion from the Emperor himself for his deeds.
Saainren gritted his teeth at such blatant lies. It worked for them, keeping the spotlight off what really happened and their unauthorized visit to the Crimson Wasteland, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Xanran was amused by the whole thing:
“Damn, somebody works fast! Den of Vipers, indeed,” he chuckled, before the next group of nobles approached them for the novelty of their company.
It was an interesting tidbit of information, but that wasn’t their focus tonight. Saainren dropped hints about his trade business and how he was looking into optimizing the space on his ships and his warehouses with magical means and soon enough he had many recommendations to reach out to the Alkasian family. Many of those who mentioned the family ventured further and gossiped about them happily. They soon learned that one of the family elders was embroiled in an affair that put the security of one of the Imperial vaults in jeopardy. With such a high-risk case it was no wonder the Imperials confiscated all the documents that were in the suspect’s home. That complicated matters a little. But Saainren hoped to at least be able to introduce himself and start some sort of a connection with the people he choose as his targets.
With great fanfare the dancing part of the evening started, the Emperor and his Empress opening with the first dance. Both he and Xanran found themselves with multiple dance offers and while it gave some good opportunities to talk a bit one-on-one it was a rather tedious affair. He would much rather be dancing with Xanran, but, alas, they only met when they passed each other on the floor, each holding a different partner’s hand. He gazed wistfully at Mexi and Rogan, who spun on the dance floor together, not bothered with too many offers and not needing to fear being seen as impolite by refusing them.
Another dance and another passed with words being shared between strangers. Teases, promises and enquiries ended with a bow. He nearly sighed with relief when Xanran found him in the crowd of departing dancers and pulled him towards one of the balconies.
“Let’s take a break, yeah?” he smiled at Saainren. “You are looking a bit overwhelmed.”
“I’m just realizing I’m not used to this style of life anymore. To the Game. It’s draining,” Saainren admitted and followed the dragon gladly, to a less populated portion of the Palace, where there were balconies to take a breather or to scheme on.
The balcony furthest to the left was separated by a curtain at the entrance. He raised his hand to part the curtains when he heard voices inside. He was about to turn around and guide Rogan to a different spot, but a few overheard words caught his attention.
“That bastard! I very well know Mobilon isn’t the one that ended the Scourge. He nearly ended me, when I had to work under him, and I know he is too incompetent to solve a problem that men and women much more intelligent than him couldn’t solve,” the angry voice ranted. There was something familiar about it...
“My buddy told me his great plan to deal with it was to slaughter everything inside the barrier. Just full-on rampage and throwing our soldiers to thousands of mutated beasts. I will eat my sandals if that actually worked,” the second voice conceded. “But alas, we don’t have any proof for or against him. Let’s hope somebody else does.”
Saainren realized the voice was coming nearer and pulled Rogan to the side, so it looked like they weren’t spying on the two men inside. An Imperial Officer emerged from behind the curtain soon after and Xanran watched him as he said his farewells and went towards a nearby stairwell. He thought the second man would stay behind the curtain, but no, he pulled the fabric to the side a moment later. Xanran was still watching his companion vanish down the stair and he was startled when he heard a choked off noise from the balcony.
“My prince?” The man’s hoarse voice shook.
Saainren could only widen his eyes in disbelief, as in front of him stood the son of general Rhok’ka, a previous citizen of Skorravik.
It was too late to ignore this conversation and run away. He cast a furtive glance around and pushed the stunned man back onto the balcony. He gestured to Xanran to stand guard in front of the curtain before it fell down behind them.
“My prince... you are alive,” the man whispered, his light brown skin growing paler.
“Hagard,” he acknowledged softly. There weren’t many survivors from the domain of his father. Skorravik was a tiny speck of a kingdom, just one city that grew large enough and strong enough to gain independence.
“My prince! No, my king!” The man fell on his knees. “Please, forgive me! If I had known that you have had survived I would lead the fight for you! We could have garnered the support of other kingdoms! We still could... you should ask the Emperor for help. He is a great man who believes in justice!” The man’s fervent speech was full of hope, his eyes gazing up at Saainren as if he was someone worthy to be a king.
He wasn’t.
He pulled the man up, making him stand, while he fell down on his knees himself.
“It’s me that should be begging you for forgiveness.” He looked at Hagard’s Imperial clothing. “If you say that the Emperor is a just man then you should keep following him, because.... because my father was not.”
“What... what are you saying?” The man’s eyes frantically searched his face.
Though it cost Saainren every bit of his strength to get it past his clenched throat he admitted: “My father was the reason the city of Skorravik, and all its citizens, perished.”
∞∞∞
Rogan was glad to spot Xanran at the entrance to one of the balconies. He steered a practically glowing Mexi towards the dragon. The elf was right to be proud. He was well on his way to getting into the Alkasian’s graces and learned a lot from Lorena. She was the one in the family studying the works of their great-grandfather and she was pissed the research was taken from her, when she hadn’t finished unlocking all the knowledge hidden in it. Many possible paths were opening in front of them thanks to that, so they decided to meet with the rest of the team to discuss their plans.
“Hey. Saainren is having a talk with some guy he knows... from before,” the dragon whispered to him.
Rogan stiffened. Should he enter and support his prince in talking with a remnant of their past?
He decided to listen for a bit first and Mexi decided to do the same, practically putting his ear to the curtain, the nosy little thing.
“My father was the reason the city of Skorravik, and all its citizens, perished.”
Fuck.
Rogan closed his eyes. It had to be an important conversation if his prince was sharing this painful truth.
“Hey!” he heard Xanran call out and he snapped his eyes opened, fast enough to catch Mexi disappearing back into the main room.
“What...?” he started to ask.
“I don’t know, but you should go after him.” Xanran nodded after the young elf. “I promise I will keep Saainren safe.” he murmured quietly seeing the guard hesitate.
That was enough for Rogan, he bolted after his young lover. It was a lucky thing that Mexi couldn’t move as fast as him with his many layers. He caught him by the tables with food. It was obvious he was distressed and didn’t know where to go, since the balconies weren’t secure enough to have a meltdown at. He caught the eye of one of the servants and beckoned the young human to come over.
“My wife isn’t feeling well. Is there a place she could rest?” he asked the servant, and they were promptly escorted to a small room down the hall.
Mexi dropped like a stone onto the many cushions adorning the chaise.
As soon as the door closed behind the servant Rogan was at the elf’s side.
“Hey, talk to me. What happened? What is going on?”
“Skorravik,” Mexi spat out through what looked like a panic attack. “Skorravik. You two are from Skorravik.”
It didn’t sound like a question, but Rogan responded anyway, clutching Mexi’s hand in his.
“Yes. Didn’t we say that before?”
∞∞∞
“You never mentioned the name of the city. I o-only knew the region you came from and there are so many city-kingdoms there...” The elf’s voice shook. “Why did it have to be that one?” He was full on crying now.
“Why does it matter?” Rogan desperately wanted to understand so that he could help.
“Your prince is wrong, you know,” Mexi said through the tears falling down his face, the kohl around his eyes starting to smear a little. “The king wasn’t responsible for what happened to Skorravik.” He closed his eyes and curled in on himself like someone waiting to be hit. “It was me. It was all me.”
Rogan sat there with his jaw hanging open for a few seconds. Then he jumped into action.
“Sunshine, look at me,” he asked softly. “I don’t know why you think this, but I was there when it happened. I heard the king’s decision to destroy the city when he locked himself in the throne room with me and Saainren. It was the king who unleashed his magic and combined it with alchemical fire. Saainren tried to stop him, but what could the power of a novice do against a powerful mage... The king wanted to kill everyone. He didn’t mind killing all his citizens, if only he could destroy the enemy as well. He didn’t care about killing himself and his son, laying unconscious at his feet.” Rogan hung his head in shame. “I was too much of a coward to challenge him and I choose to save the prince over the chance of saving the city.”
“You... what... but I was there as well... outside the city walls... I SAW. I was the one they took the power from to cast the spell!” Mexi protested harshly.
Rogan considered the facts he knew. The magical brands on Mexi’s body and how he told them he killed many, many people.
“There was a green tinge to the explosion, yes?”
The confused elf nodded.
“That was the alchemical fire that made the explosion so strong. It should have been strong enough to destroy all the armies outside our city. Yet it didn’t. The fire bounced back on the city, razing it to the ground. There was a...”
“A barrier...” the elf whispered. “Did they power the barrier with me?” the small voice was disbelieving.
“I think you saved all those people outside the city.” Rogan smiled and dared to touched Mexi’s face, drying his tears with his thumb, moving it in a slow caress over his cheek.
“Saved. Saved?” the fragile elf in front of him pleaded, desperately wanting to believe him.
“Yes,” Rogan said with surety and Mexi cried even harder, this time from relief.
∞∞∞
Saainren told Hagard everything. How the king decided to sacrifice his city and the lives of his subjects and even his own son for petty revenge.
The man protested at first, but as more and more of the story spilled out from Saainren’s lips he stood there stock still, uncomprehending, disbelieving.
But when Saainren had finished the story it had to come. The anger, the realization of the betrayal.
“You are not my prince anymore,” the man announced gravely, turning his back on him.
“I know,” he acknowledged quietly. “And I’m sorry.”
The man gave a bitter snort of a laughter.
“Pretty, empty words. If you have nothing else to say to me than scram.”
Saainren hesitated, knowing he had to act now, or forgo the daring idea that was bubbling in his mind.
“Actually, I need your help with one matter.” He rose slowly back to his feet.
“Ha! Impudent! You should have played your cards differently, my p... Saainren. If you asked me for anything before this revelation, I would have moved the whole world to get it for you. But now... I owe you nothing. If you want my help you will have to pay a steep price for it.”
Saainren nodded.
“It’s a good thing then, that I have something you want.”
∞∞∞
Xanran watched the happenings with anticipation, bouncing slightly on his feet. They got pushed quite far away from the throne, the closest spaces filled with guards and highest ranked nobility, but he could still see what was happening and he hoped that his dragon hearing would help enough that he could hear everything that was said. He didn’t want to miss even a second.
Finally, the knight who was newly made a duke for his service to the Empire, rose up and bowed to the king before leaving the raised dais just below the throne. The king rose from his throne with an elvish grace and addressed the gathering.
“To bring the glory to the Empire is an honor and a duty. But sometimes the gods test us with trials beyond our imaginings. Alas, the Crimson Wasteland comes to mind as the scourge upon our lands, an unhealing wound on the Empire’s body.” He gazed at them all somberly, silently, while they all held their breaths, everybody afraid to make a sound in the silence. The emperor smiled. “I’m glad to tell you all, my people, that we passed the trail. The Crimson Wasteland is no more.”
Chaos erupted all around. Most of the guests had no idea that it had happened, no less how it happened. It was enough to start the whispers and q
uestions even during the Emperor’s speech. Three loud bangs echoed, and the crowd fell silent again, their attention diverted by the throne guards banging their heavy spears on the floor.
“The corruption is no more, and the Empire will work tirelessly to bring the land to its previous glory. The wound is healing.” The rule’s tone was full of hope, making everybody listening to the speech feel like the world just become a better place. “I would like you to meet the man who made this possible.”
The guards parted and from the side, appeared a figure clad in the reds of the Imperial uniform. He took the stairs to the podium below the high throne proudly, his spine straight and gait even.
“Rhet Mobilon at your service, your Majesty.” He knelt in front of the Emperor; head hung low as the rules demanded.
“Rise,” The elf commanded. “I hear you are the one to put the end to the curse?”
“Yes, your Majesty, I was just doing my duty-”
“Your Majesty, this man is lying.” A voice from the crowd cut him off.
The guards and nobles bristled at somebody daring to cause a ruckus during such a ceremony, but Hagard prepared his playing field perfectly. Around him people parted, creating a line of sight for the emperor, his friends and allies shielding him from being shut up too fast. He fell to his knees and bowed deep.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I couldn’t bear seeing you being deceived by this worm.”
“W-what nonsense! Slander!” Mobilon spluttered.
The Emperor held up a hand to silence them both.
“What lies do you accuse this man of? And think carefully, for if I find your accusations to be false you will pay with your head.”
“I, Hagard Melhelm Rhok’ka, accuse Rhet Mobilon of falsely presenting himself as the one who ended the curse of the Crimson Wasteland.”
Xanran hoped the look on the false hero’s face would be preserved for posterity in paintings of this moment.
“Lies!” the man shouted.
The Emperor gazed at him coldly and Xanran remembered in that moment that the brown skinned elf wasn’t only an inspiring speaker and good politician, but also a ruthless fighter you wouldn’t want to meet in battle.